Angel of Death
by Raiam
Summary: John Wick's back in business. What happens when he gets tasked with protecting the daughter of the Continental owner Winston who's back from England? Find out his reaction when she's not the damsel in distress everyone assumes her to be. No magic.
1. Prologue

Angel of Death

 _A/N: A short prologue to start the story, the next chapter will be from Hermione's point of view. Enjoy :)_

A tall man in an all-black suit and tie was standing in front of the enormous Continental building. A bag was slung over his shoulder and in his right hand, he was holding a leash. "Let's go in, Rose," John Wick said fondly, looking down at his pit-bull. The dog barked in agreement. Upon entering, the quiet whispers that filled the hall came to a stop. The only sound was the echo of his shoes hitting the marble floor. All eyes were on him as reached the reception.

"Good evening, Mr. Wick. It is a pleasure to have you here at our hotel again." The hotel manager looked over the counter down to Rose. "Of course, should you be on a business trip during your stay, rest assured we will take good care of your dog."

"Thank you. I really appreciate that." Under normal circumstances, pets weren't allowed in the Continental but after what happened the last time someone hurt his dog, no one was going to tell him otherwise.

The hotel manager gave him his keys and an envelope. "Enjoy your stay, Mr. Wick." He gave him a smile and John tucked the envelope into his pockets.

The suite was a different one from the last time he was there. He was grateful for that as he isn't particularly fond of the memories that go with it. John put his bag on the ground and unleashed Rose. He sat down on the king-sized bed and opened the envelope. In immaculate handwriting, it said, _Black Velvet, 8 pm_. John would recognize that handwriting anywhere.

At precisely 7.59 pm, he arrived at the restaurant owned by Winston. True to its name, black dominated the interior. John saw familiar faces at the occupied tables. A man with a shaved head acknowledged him with a court nod and a raised glass. Several weeks ago John completed a mission for him. After all these years, it still was an unfamiliar concept for him to be recognized; his name alone evoked fear and was well-known in his line of work. True to that, the smile of the blonde waitress in the short, red dress faltered for a moment upon seeing him, but she didn't lose her composure.

"Good evening, Mr. Wick. May I bring you to your Table?" She stretched her hand out, as if to grab him by his arm, but decided against it.

"Yes, thank you."

They walked to a secluded area in the back of the restaurant. She held up a black curtain and John entered. The small room was dimly lit and Jazz music was playing in the background. He greeted the man that was seated at the round table.

"Winston, it's good to see you."

Winston rose from his seat and gave John a firm handshake. "It's good doing business with you again. Please, have seat." When he smiled, several wrinkles appeared around his eyes and mouth.

A waiter brought them their drinks.

The older man fidgeted with his drink. Quite an unusual sight. "This mission is different than any other before. It's personal."

Now, John was intrigued.

"I want you to watch over my daughter for a couple of weeks. She's home for semester break and I can't allow for anything to happen to her."

John was truly surprised; he had never heard of a daughter before. "You do know that's not what I normally do, right?" He was used to killing people, sure, but to protect himself _and_ another person was a different matter altogether.

"I know, but I wouldn't ask if I didn't know you could do this. John," he pleaded, "she's my only daughter."

For the first time, he saw him as something different than a business owner and ex-assassin: a father.

"What happened to her last bodyguard, then?"

"He was killed right after they arrived from England. I'm not sure who did it, but somethings wrong. " Winston licked his lips in deep thought. "There wasn't even a threat beforehand. She just escaped by pure luck. She doesn't even know what the Continental really is. She's devasta-"

He was interrupted as a young woman entered the room. Brown curls were cascading down her back and a black lace dress was barely above the floor. She placed a perfectly manicured hand on Winston's shoulder and said in a British accent, "Hello, father, is this the man you've been telling me about?"

As her hazel eyes met his and her lips curled into a smile, John suspected that she knew more than she let on.


	2. Chapter 1

A/N: Here's the next chapter. I'm sorry it took so long but I hope you like it. Regardless of what I said in the last chapter, I think I'll keep Wick's POV for a while^^ And sorry for the random switch of tenses, I'll fix the prologue when I have time. Reviews are appreciated :)

They sit in a car. John agreed to take the job as a bodyguard. He recognized the true look of desperation in Winston's eyes because he had seen it in the mirror himself the day his wife was admitted to hospital. He looks at the young girl beside him tapping away on her phone and recalls Winston words, "Do not, under any circumstances, let her know what you really do or what the Continental is. As far as she's concerned, it's an ordinary hotel."

"We'll go to my apartment where I'll get changed and then we go to a club." She speaks without looking up from her phone. "I feel like partying."

"That is not safe."

She looks him in the eyes. "Oh, I'm sure you can handle it, Mr. Wick." It's a challenge.

"Aren't you scared?"

"No. If they, whoever they are, wanted me dead, I would be dead already. They just wanted to scare my father. Moping around at home won't solve anything."

"Fine, then." He sighs.

Her apartment is a penthouse suite. _Of course it is._

"Make yourself feel at home, Mr. Wick," she says before disappearing into her bedroom.

He takes a look around. It's tastefully furnished and held in mostly black with a few specks of gold here and there. He enters the living room. There is no television. Instead, a huge bookshelf covers a wall. A few pictures are placed on there, too; her with her father and an older one with presumably her mother. Another one is of her smiling in between two boys with black and red hair.

"Are you ready to go?" She returns from her bedroom wearing a short red dress that hugs her small curves.

He nods and they end up once again in her car with a chauffeur.

In front of the club is a long line of people waiting to get in. He scans the area and memorizes possible escape routes.

Hermione doesn't bother with the masses and goes straight to the bouncer. She gives him a cheerful greeting. He lets them in.

The bass is drumming in his ears and the colourful lights are hurting his eyes. The dancefloor is full of scantily clad women and men who are more than ready to spend their parents' money on them. There doesn't appear to be anyone suspicious.

"I'm going to get a drink." He can barely make out her voice.

On the way to the bar, several people accidentally bump into him. He doesn't understand how anyone considers this to be fun.

"Ohh, cheer up Mr. Wick." She takes a sip from her drink. "I would offer you one, but you're at work."

Somehow, he had imagined this job to be different than playing babysitter for a party girl.

Her eyes roam over the room. She seems to have found what she was looking for and sets her empty glass aside. "It's time to dance. And please, don't be so obvious."

He watches her from afar as her body moves to the music, all the while keeping tabs on her surroundings. She unknowingly bumps into a man with strikingly blond hair, almost white. It reminds him of someone he used to know. She turns around and makes an apologetic expression. Her hand brushes over his shoulder and he smiles. She says something and they leave the dancefloor. He follows them to a more secluded area where it's possible to sit down. He keeps his distance.

They talk while a waitress continues to get them drinks. As he watches over the two, he can't help but keep on noticing similarities between the blond man beside Hermione and the man from his past. A very dangerous man.

He is about to interrupt them when he sees her standing up. The man seems to be disappointed. She gives him a kiss on the cheek and whispers something into his ear. He smirks.

She returns to John's side. "Let's go."

He steadies her as she struggles walking back to the car in her high heels. He holds the door open.

"Thank you."

Inside, her heads plops against the window and she closes her eyes.

"Are you alright?"

"Just perfect," she answers.

"Who was that man earlier?"

"Wouldn't you like to know?" Her breath reeks of alcohol.

"It's my job to know," he replies.

"His name is Draco." She rubs her temples. "Anyway, I'm tired. I don't feel like talking anymore."

He accompanies her to her front door.

"This is where your duty ends for the night. I'll call you tomorrow." She smiles. "Good night, Mr. Wick."

"Good night, Hermione."

He goes back to the Continental and plans to do some research about that 'Draco' guy before he sees her again.


End file.
